Part 24 (2/2)
”Thank goodness. Has he said anything about what happened? How he was injured?”
”He says he was having a smoke on the bench, felt a sharp pain, and it was lights out until he came to with you standing over him.”
”Surely he doesn't think I-”
At Patrick's expression, I stopped. Of course, he did. Hadn't he spent the better part of the bike ride accusing me of all kinds of nefarious criminal activity? Why not a blitz attack?
”He was blind-sided. He didn't see or hear a thing,” Patrick said, trying to rea.s.sure me.
”I'm sure Vinny has his own theory.” It didn't taken a ton of smarts to figure out Vinny had given me the finger. I mean fingered me. Oh, you know what I mean.
Patrick shrugged. ”At this point, anyone in the house or in the vicinity of the house is a suspect.”
”How's Manny handling the fallout?” I asked. When you're supposed to be in charge of security and an a.s.sault with injuries occurs right under your nose, it's gotta suck.
”Manny's...highly motivated to discover who's responsible.”
I figured ”highly motivated” was an understatement. Manny was probably ready to bust a kneecap or two over the incident. But I'm only speculating here.
”He's suggested that Keelie reconsider the bike ride,” Patrick went on.
”Oh? What does Keelie think?”
”She's refusing to pull out.”
”I see.” I chewed my bottom lip. Just the reaction you'd expect from the reality star if she knew for certain she wasn't in any real danger. ”I bet the show's producers are tickled green-as in advertising bucks green-at Keelie's show-must-go-on att.i.tude,” I mused aloud.
Patrick grimaced. ”I don't get all the reality show hype and popularity,” he said. ”Apparently, living vicariously through others appeals to a certain demographic of the populace.”
I was with Patrick on this one. I'd never been comfortable cast in the role of a sideline observer.
Oh, I see. You could tell that about me, huh?
”So, what happens now?”
”The locals investigate,” Patrick said. ”With a.s.sistance from the state.”
”Couldn't we figure out if anyone left the house at the approximate time of the attack by looking at the cameraman's footage?” I asked.
Patrick shook his head. ”I wish. They shut down for the night shortly after the little brouhaha with Jax Whitver.”
”Oh? What about your moves on the dance floor? Did your stint on the chorus line end up going viral?”
He reddened.
”G.o.d, I hope not or else I'll never live it down. I had a devil of a time getting permission from the bra.s.s to partic.i.p.ate in the first place. I should have known it wasn't the sort of setting a small town Iowa boy would comfortably fit into.”
I put a hand on his shoulder.
”There, there, Mr. State Trooper. Everything will be okay. I promise.”
”Am I interrupting?”
I turned. Taylor, looking like a harbinger of death, stood there.
”You're not interrupting a thing,” I said. ”Why? What's up?”
Taylor held her phone out to me.
”It's for you,” she said, tight-lipped and curt. ”It's Rick. He says he's been trying to reach you for hours.”
My tummy did a flip-flop like it used to when my dad took us out on what he used to call ”belly-b.u.t.ton hills.” You know. Where you're going really fast and your tummy feels like it's in your throat. One of those numbers.
”Oh. Well, er, my phone's like really low on its charge, so I turned it off to save the battery.”
”Uh-huh. Well, lucky for you, I have a full charge,” she said. ”So take all the time you need to catch up.”
”Oh, uh, thanks,” I said, feeling anything but grateful as I swallowed past the wad in my throat.
”We'll just give you a little privacy, won't we, Patrick?” Taylor said, and spirited the trooper away.
I cleared my throat.
”Uh, h.e.l.lo?”
”Good to see you figured out how a cell phone works,” Ranger Rick said. ”Well, other than as a flashlight to point out unconscious a.s.sault victims at the haunted Murder House, that is.”
Okay. I deserved the sarcastic salvo. Avoidance has always been my fatal flaw. Okay. One of my fatal flaws. Geez. What is this? Pig-pile on Tressa Turner day?
”Sawree,” I said, and meant it. ”You know I'm not a phone person.”
”I'm well aware of your phone phobia, Tressa,” Ranger Rick said, ”But I thought even you could manage to hit a b.u.t.ton when your phone rings, put it to your ear, and say h.e.l.lo.”
I grimaced. Things were not sunny in Jellystone Park.
”You're right,” I said, too weary and too weirded out by the previous night's events to adequately defend myself. ”Like I said. Sorry.”
One of those a.s.s-awkward phone hesitations I referenced earlier followed.
”Wow. Now that I didn't expect,” Ranger Rick said, and I frowned into the phone.
”Expect...what?”
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